


Open Hearts

by on_the_fringe



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M, Intoxication, Smut, no redeeming value people, redverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/on_the_fringe/pseuds/on_the_fringe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 4x09 ENEMY OF MY ENEMY. Response to the following Fringe Kinkmeme prompt: "Red!Olivia/Red!Lincoln, after Frank breaks up with her."</p>
<p>Details in the Notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> "Liv lets him take her out after Frank dumps her and he gets slightly tipsy while she gets totally drunk. After he literally brings her home and puts her to bed she kisses him and he's hesitant because he knows if she lets him have his way he won't be able to stop. But she doesn't want him to."

"'m sure I can get it from here."

"And what, leave me with a bruised and bloody partner tomorrow, after you've stumbled head-first into every corner in your apartment." Lincoln lifted a sardonic eyebrow at her. "Let me help you, Liv."

Liv blinked and stared down at where her fingers were curled around his arm. She felt warm and fuzzy and safe, but yeah, that bubble around her wasn't real, wouldn't protect her against mishaps. She didn't drink; when she did the stuff always hit her hard. "'kay," she murmured, and he smiled.

Gently, Lincoln reached around her and first closed the door from the inside, then turned on the living room light. "See? Much better. Literally."

She did see him much better, it was true. 

The lights at Ollie's Pub had been dim, the music loud, and there hadn't been much conversation -- well, nothing two-sided; she had spent a lot of time verbally examining her relationship with Frank and why it didn't work out. Lincoln had listened, the way he always did: attentive, eyes on her throughout. 

"You know, maybe you're not that funny-looking after all. Just a little." Liv reached up to tousle his hair. Her hand slipped, though, index finger grazing his lower lip.

Lincoln jerked a little at that, mouth opening. He licked his lips, and Liv couldn't help but stare at their shape, familiar yet not. A flush was creeping up his face, making his eyes seem brighter and bluer than ever. "Um, thanks." He exhaled. "For coming to realize, if much too slowly, that I'm devastatingly handsome."

He was; he always had been, of course. His joke just now didn't seem like much of one. She thought of his alter ego, soft-spoken and sweet. The other Lincoln had startled her, something about him tugging at her senses. Same person, different behavior. Her Lincoln could be like that too. He was like it right now.

She wondered why she had overreacted so when the other one had asked her about her own Lincoln. Who was not hideous. Not at all. Liv swallowed. "Bed, I think."

He looked to the side. The tips of his ears were red too, and in the profile against her door she could see the shadowed stubble on his chin. "Right."

In her bedroom, Liv felt almost balanced. Physically, that was. The zipper on her jacket was resisting, though. "Linc, could you…"

"'course." His voice was low and his fingers dexterous. This close, she could smell the warm spice of the one glass of Handy he'd had on Lincoln's breath. He was looking down at her collar, intent on working the zipper. Almost not glancing at her chest -- almost. She felt oddly warm herself.

The zipper came free, and he slid it down very carefully. Its metallic sound broke the silence of the room. There was color high on his cheekbones, but when Lincoln looked at her again, the smile on his face was bravely approaching his usual one. "There," he said.

"C'mere," she said, and in turn tugged at the lapels of his own jacket. He must've been too surprised, followed her lead and leaned in. His mouth was still for a moment, slack against hers, but when she sucked lightly on his lower lip, he shuddered against her, and opened up, his tongue hot and wet and --

"Liv, wait." It was more of a gasp than a sentence, really. "You're drunk, and you -- you're still not over Frank."

"Maybe I'd rather be over you," she murmured. "Not in the metaph..metapho…for real, Lincoln."

He snorted, and his laugh was definitely the genuine article. "See? This is not a good idea." Lincoln hadn't moved away, though. He was still leaning in, breathing heavily. His forehead was an inch away from hers. He smelled like leather and sweat from a long day, but good this way: warm and like himself. Like her partner of six years. She'd seen him clothed and naked, drunk and sober. She'd seen all of him. There was nothing she didn't feel good about.

Liv could feel herself biting her lip. "I still want you."

He made a sound at that that she couldn't place, and his hands were slowly sliding around hers. "You're killing me, Liv. I can't -- I can't be some one-night fuck for you. I --" he broke off.

Liv spread her fingers, laced them slowly with his. "Not a one-time fuck, then?" The words were out, but they were true too. This time when she kissed him, he didn't hesitate -- slanted his lips over hers, dragged his hands out of hers only to run them softly across her cheeks and, harder but not roughly, through her hair to pull her close.

She heard herself whimper into his mouth, and then his hands were gone again, if not his tongue or that hint of teeth. Lincoln had agile fingers, definitely; their clothing was gone between one step and the next, until her calves hit the bed and she tumbled down on it. Lincoln crawled up, over her, and his smile was strange and beautiful at once. "You know you're amazing, right?"

"Yep," she said, running a hand over his chest, broad and strong, followed the trail of hair leading down from his navel. "That makes two of us." His cock was hard underneath its soft skin, not long but thick, wide, and she shivered pleasantly. Shivered more when Lincoln's fingers mirrored hers, trailing between her legs where she was slick and drenching his fingers. 

Lincoln breathed harshly, opening her up a little and spreading the wetness. "Need to be inside you. Now."

"Is that an order?" Hard to take a breath, hard to even concentrate on her own words.

"Oh, fuck you, Liv." Lincoln almost laughed, but he also leaned down and kissed her again, more forcefully. The hand that had been playing with her pussy spread wide, pushed at her thighs. Liv opened her legs, obliging, and Lincoln's hips snapped forward. The tip of his cock slid wetly against her, and then inside at the next push. Out, and in again.

Liv moaned, the skin of her legs tingling and her toes curling. She pushed back at Lincoln, tilting her hips upward, and yeah, that definitely did the trick; Lincoln was gasping too now, pushing harder into her, faster. Deeper than before: just right, just right, just --  
yes.

He shuddered against her, almost violently, the small of his back slick with sweat when she tugged at him, and that was that for him too. His smile against her lips softened, and she nudged his nose with hers. "Still got a slightly bruised partner tomorrow."

"Main thing is that I got my partner tomorrow." His voice was strained as if from exertion.

Liv closed her eyes and tightened her arms around him. Just before dropping off, she managed to whisper, "You do. Always."


End file.
